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The few whites he had ever known generally offered to pet him when they really wanted to kick him. Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure. Gosse! Dieu du ciel, but how did he get into the convent? She had perforce to obey his command, for speech was impossible. He pulled rein at the sight of her, saluted, and regarded her with his rather too protuberant eyes.
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